


Wake Alice

by KizzyAnel



Category: Alice in Wonderland (Movies - Burton)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-27
Updated: 2010-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KizzyAnel/pseuds/KizzyAnel
Summary: A one-shot about an impatient Hatter and a sleeping beauty. See the art for this story here: /art/Wake-Alice-203797105
Relationships: Tarrant Hightopp/Alice Kingsleigh
Kudos: 4





	Wake Alice

Well-worn brown boots tapped against the white tiled floor of the White Queen's Castle. There was no discernible rhythm to the tapping nor to the humming that accompanied it. It was still very early in Underland with the sun barely warming the eastern sky. The Hatter was already impatient for company. The tea was steeping; the pastries the March Hare had baked yesterday were warming; the Hatter was dressed; the table set; yet no one was awake. A small dark frown descended on his brow.

Perhaps Alice would like some morning tea.

That little thought seemed to pick up his spirits considerably, the frown melted away in the wake of a perky smile and more humming.

The door hit the wall as it was flung open by the overly enthusiastic Hatter attempting to balance a tea tray over filled with china and pastries. With the tray safely stowed on the table, he straightened himself, his hair and brushed a stray thread along with some dust from his jacket. He was momentarily distracted by the dust motes floating in the slanted morning light that had started to filter over the edge of the horizon.

Alice was not awake. His entrance did not wake her. He tiptoed to her bedroom door, the Hatter hesitantly rapt on her door and waited.

No answer. No shuffling or yawning or creaking. No tale tell signs that she had even stirred. Alice was not awake. Brilliant green eyes slanted to the tea tray. Was the steam coming from the pot spout just a little less? The tea was getting cold. That would not do to serve her cold morning tea. She would just have to wake up.

Bandaged fingers slid over the knob gently nudging it open and he peered through the barely open slit. The March Hare was quite irate when woken early. He was sure Alice would not be, but one could not be sure of another’s morning disposition.

The door squeaked in protest as it was slid open. Hatter stood with his head tilted slightly to one side as he looked on Alice’s sleeping form. She was cocooned in the down white comforter of the bed against the pile of white down pillows wearing a pale blue nightgown that seemed such a strong splash of color against the white. -run-on sentence The warming sunlight shone brilliantly off her pale hair and lit the whole white room in brilliance. A quiet sort of giggle bubbled from his stomach where suddenly a great amount of commotion was going on that tickled him from the inside.

The bed dipped as he sat down on the edge of it. Alice mumbled and rolled, turning her face away from the sunlight and towards Hatter. She was a much more agreeable size this time around. He brushed his fingertips, light as breath, down her cheek. It was easy to forget everything with his Alice. With Alice all time could just be an uninterrupted tea party. Her head turned once more, stirring further from sleep. The action brought her lips under his fingertips. They were softer than her cheek and her breath was warm like the steam off a fresh cup of tea . Entranced, the Hatter lowered his head until his lips replaced his fingers at the corner of her mouth.

A most startling sensation! Tingles on his lips and that tickling in his stomach became more vigorous. Alice hummed against his lips, arching in her waking, pressing her lips to his with just the barest bit of pressure. Her stretch finished, she relaxed against the bedding, putting a centimeter between them as her eyes fluttered open.

Then all was very quiet and very still.

“Alice,” the Hatter’s voice barely a whisper.

“Hatter,” hers was just as quiet and much more a note of wary query.

“It’s Morning!” he declared in that Scottish brogue accent of his (as if it needed to be announced) . He had pulled back to put a bit more space between them and his eyes shifted quickly between her and the window that clearly presented the dawn. “It was … too early – tea – couldn’t wait – getting cold – “

“Hatter!”

“I’m fine.” He frowned to himself and then his eyes refocused on her face. “Are you fine Alice?”

“I am just fine this morning, Hatter,” her tone light and a small secretive smile curled on her lips.

He sat up straight slapping his thighs with his hands. Smile once more in place frown forgotten. “Well then. Your breakfast tea is getting cold.” He stood and held his hand out for hers.

Giggling a little she threw back the covers and took his hand. He practically ran her to the sitting room and placed her in one chair and then settled himself into the other. Not as comfortable as his chair at the tea party but it was morning and Alice was awake.


End file.
